Nothing Is Ever As It Seems
by AngelRays95
Summary: A face from the past threatens to bring back painful memories for Dylan and Sam, but what will he do when faced with the possibility of losing her for good? And will he ever be able to tell her the truth about why they really grew apart?
1. Blast from the Past

"Excuse m-"

"Sorry, mate, if you could just wait there a second, I'll be there as soon as I can," interjected Noel before turning his back on the man at the desk to answer the phone. The morning had not been going well, and the receptionist already felt the need for a strong cup of coffee and some R & R. Instead, he was receiving a call from yet another frantic family member wishing to see one of the numerous patients in the ED, and not even Poirot could find their file under this lot!

"Right, sorry, what were you saying?" Noel asked, turning back to the surprisingly dapper gentleman leaning against the desk. Doctor, he though immediately.

"Hi, I'm looking for Sam," he replied with an easy-going smile and smooth voice. He was exactly the sort of man which made Noel feel about ten inches tall, and he hated him already.

"Sam?" he responded, deciding to make this day as difficult for him as possible – it wasn't fair that he was the only one suffering.

"Yeah, gorgeous, fair hair, pig-headed, stubborn… know the one I mean?"

Noel couldn't help smirking, which made him all the more annoyed, and nodded. "She'll be around somewhere. Is it important?"

The man shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, it's not a matter of life or death, if that's what you mean. But I have a plane to catch in…" he paused to check his watch, "two hours, and I need to see her before I go."

Noel's brows gathered as he tried to work out who this guy was. It wasn't her husband, that was for sure – that particular position had already been filled by their very own rude, obnoxious doctor. But, from the way he was speaking, they weren't exactly friends either.

"I'll page her, let her know you're here. Name?"

"Matt. She'll know who I am," he said with a smile and then went to sit down in the waiting area.

xxx

She saw him before he saw her. She hated being the first to make eye contact – no matter how hard she tried, she always felt needy when he saw she was looking at him. It was ridiculous, of course, but somehow he always made her feel so self-conscious and vulnerable, as though he could read her mind with just a glance.

She gave a weak smile before cautiously quickening her pace, deciding the quicker she was away from him the better.

"Oh, Sam," he called after her, and she halted suddenly. It had been a long time since he had been the first to engage in conversation with her.

"Mm-hmm?"

"Matt's here… to see you," he stated bluntly, eyes hard and unseeing as he stared right at her.

There was a moments silence as Sam tried to take in this unbelievable information. He couldn't mean… _Matt_. She hadn't seen him in years, and she had never, ever expected to see him again. But he was here. And he had seen Dylan… maybe even spoken to him. _Oh God._

"Right. Thanks. I suppose I should… Um, yeah, I'll just…"

"Ok," Dylan replied before she could think up a semi-coherent response, turning briskly on his heel and marching down the corridor without a second glance.

Once she had regained control of her thoughts, Sam rubbed her eyes hard and hurried up the corridor towards the reception area.

xxx

"What is wrong with you today?" Zoe asked, cocking her head to one side as she studied her friend's vacant, irate face.

Dylan decided to ignore her and continued to read the patient's notes. He had woken at four, as had been normal for years now, but it wasn't just the exhaustion clouding his mind.

"Fine, don't tell me. But I bet I can guess," she added under her breath, giving a mischievous smile as she saw his jaw lock.

"Right, well, that's probably the most boring case notes I have ever read. Here you go," he said, handing over the file before attempting to make a hasty retreat. He wasn't surprised when Zoe blocked his path.

"Go on. You're not likely to get another offer."

He sighed, turning his head to the side to stop her reading his expression. It had been nagging away at him the entire morning, wondering why he had decided to show up now. Why today?

"Matthew Garrett. Renowned surgeon, currently residing in Harley street, though his talents are now required in Dubai." In Dylan's mind, this was enough information for Zoe to piece the jigsaw puzzle together, but by the look on her face, she couldn't see the problem. "He's a prick," he explained, and she chuckled at his frank answer.

"Right. So, you're jealous, then? He's got the money, the career, the contacts…"

"No," he replied, almost wishing it was that simple. But the fact was, he had something far more important within his grasp, something which Dylan had no hope of ever stealing back.

"Then what's the problem? I'm sure you've met hundreds of twats like Garrett – what's so special about him?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Can we drop it, now, or do you honestly have nothing better to do?" he snapped, pushing past her and going in search of a more interesting patient to distract him.

xxx

She knew as soon as she entered reception that he was there – if the giggling nurses wasn't a giveaway, his arrogant, smug voice certainly confirmed her fears. She stood by the doors, half tempted to hide in the on-call room for the rest of the shift, but he had turned before she had a chance to decide.

"My God, you look bloody awful!" he yelled before giving his signature laugh. She shuddered at the sound.

"Thanks. Why are you here?" she asked, determined to remain cold and detached for the entire conversation, which would hopefully be very brief.

His mouth twitched slightly at the harsh tone of her voice, before faking a smile. "To see you, of course. I don't have long to chat, but I could hardly leave before seeing you."

"Why not? We haven't spoken in almost two years."

He nodded, combing his fingers through his golden locks. "I know. My fault, I suppose. I probably should have made the effort, but you know how it is, Sammy. Busy, busy, busy."

She felt like slapping him, but refrained, knowing that it wouldn't look too good if a doctor assaulted a visitor, no matter how much of a bastard he was.

"Talking of being busy, I have a patient list which is increasing by the minute, so if you could kindly say whatever it is you have to say and leave, that would be greatly appreciated," she replied, eyes as cold and hard as Dylan's. It was a terrifying thought to think she was anything like him, but in this case, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing.

"Right… Well, first thing's first. Why the hell is Dylan working at the same hospital as you? I mean, divorcees don't usually stay joined at the hip – not that either of you were particularly close even when you were married."

"Stop right there, Matt. This has nothing to do with you. Say what you have to say, and then go. Quite frankly, I don't know what you could possibly need to tell me that is so urgent."

"I'm going to Dubai."

Sam laughed bitterly. "That's great news. Don't feel the need to send me a postcard-"

"I want you to come with me."


	2. Socially Awkward

**This is more a filler chapter than actual content, but I did want to show the individual and collective problems surrounding Dylan and Sam, and I also love seeing the increasing similarities between the two. Please review because I love reading your comments, even if it's only a word or two! Thanks xx**

Even if he hadn't been listening at the reception doors, news of Sam's departure would inevitably have reached him at one point during the day. It was almost impossible for him to walk past a member of staff without creating a vacuum of silence around them. It was like someone had pressed the mute button on their conversation as soon as he came near, but it didn't take a genius to work out what everyone seemed so eager to discuss. Even Nick Jordan had fell quiet when Dylan walked past, avoiding eye contact and making the entire situation unnecessarily awkward. But, considering most people assumed he would be the first to have the information, eventually he had a stream of expectant nurses and doctors asking who the mysterious stranger was.

While diplomacy and politeness had never been attributes Dylan had ever possessed, even he could hear the excessive sharpness in his tone.

"Who Samantha speaks to and what she discusses with them is neither my concern, or yours. If I were you, I would seriously be re-evaluating my life if _this _is the most exciting thing to occupy your time."

Safe to say, he hadn't been pursued after that particular outburst, but he hadn't failed to notice Zoe's watchful gaze on him as he retreated into the safe confines of the quiet corridor. He almost groaned when he heard the tip-tap of her heels on the linoleum floor behind him.

"Don't. Just… don't," he said without turning.

"I won't. Now, come here," she replied, turning him round and pulling him into a hug. It was a strange feeling, Dylan decided, to let someone in, even if it was only partially and just for a second or two. He recognised the tensing of his body as being uncomfortable, but he had not been expecting his shoulders to relax, or his chin to slowly rest on her shoulder. He had never, ever allowed himself to get close to anyone – not unless he counted Sam, which at this particular moment, he wasn't – and it was for this reason that he pulled away hurriedly, uncertain as to what had just happened.

"Ok?"

He nodded, brows furrowing in confusion, and patted her awkwardly on the arm before stepping back.

"Sure? You look a bit… odd. Although, saying that, that's actually nothing new," Zoe joked, but the light chuckle quickly faded when she saw his normal, serious face.

"Right, well, as long as you're alright. And you're happy. About Sam. Not… _happy _about Sam, but… ugh, you know what I mean!"

Dylan forced a smile and tried keep his mind focused on the wall behind Zoe's head rather than her words slowly piercing his thoughts.

"I know exactly what you mean, and I appreciate the unnecessary, and fairly pointless-"

"Yes, ok, I understand. Let's just leave it at thank you, shall we?"

"Thank you," he responded monotonously.

Zoe smiled, realised that the conversation was over, and decided it was time to leave him to his own devices. If there was one thing she had learned since meeting Dylan, it was that he was at his happiest – and she used the word loosely – when he was alone. It would be futile to do anything other than accept this fact, which is exactly why she had become so good at reading when he needed some "me-time".

"I'll see you later," she said finally, giving him one final, quick smile before click-clacking back along to the reception area where she could already here Charlie calling for some assistance with a patient.

xxx

The reflection in the mirror was a depressing sight to Sam – her eyes looked sunken in and bloodshot, and her hair was a mess from having been wrestling with her hair bobble for ten minutes. In truth, she was more frustrated with herself than her appearance, and the added addition of gossip-mongers doing the rounds didn't help. She hated people knowing her business, and Matt's public display of fake, plastic affection was exactly the sort of thing that made other women swoon. But, as had been proved on many occasions, she was not like other women.

A splash of cold water to the face shocked her back to reality, but still she felt as though her mind was on a different planet. It had been a rough day in any case – one man had been sick all over her, while another decided to refuse treatment and then fainted – but it was Matt's absurd proposal to "run away with him" which was weighing so heavily on her shoulders.

"Hey."

Sam turned sharply, ready to do battle as was her nature, and was met with Scarlet's cheery smile. She sighed.

"Hi."

"You ok? I heard what happened… Must have been pretty awkward."

Sam couldn't help but laugh, considering what an understatement that truly was. "Just a bit, yeah."

"Especially with Dylan standing right there. I mean, I don't think I could have kept my cool with my ex-husband witnessing me being swept off my feet."

Sam froze. Her entire body seized up and her breath caught in her throat. He had seen? How? When? Why the Hell hadn't she noticed?

"Oh God, no," she whispered, leaning back against the cold, hard sink and closing her eyes.

It took her a second to realise she was on the ground, shaking uncontrollably as Scarlet gripped her hand like a vice. She blinked, wondering how on earth she had managed to collapse without noticing, but was too weary and too numb to care.

"Let me get someone," she heard Scarlet plead, and quickly shook her head.

"Fine… I'm fine. I just need a minute," Sam replied weakly, determined to pull herself together but unable to find the energy to do just that.

"At least let me get you a glass of water. Or some chocolate. Chocolate's better than any medicine, in my book."

"Great advice, Nurse Conway," Sam sniped, before realising she had been unforgivably rude. She looked up just in time to see Scarlet slamming the door shut, and couldn't believe what she had said. Even if she was tired and angry and confused, she had no right to take it out on anyone else, and certainly not the only person who had bothered to see if she was alright.

Placing her head in her hands, Sam wondered (not for the first time) how her life had become so chaotic and messy, but unfortunately, the answer was already right in front of her, and she could blame no one but herself.


	3. You Don't Understand

**Sorry it's taken me a while to do this chapter – I think it must be the lack of Sam and Dylan in the last Casualty episode :( Anyway, enjoy and please R & R!**

Though there had been no major RTCs or puzzling cases to attend to, Dylan still felt the heavy weight of exhaustion dragging him down, and not even the strong black coffee swirling around in its plastic cup could entice him back to the living. He sighed and dropped it in the bin before resting his elbow on the counter and rubbing his tired eyes. He had tried countless times to "accidentally" bump into his wife but he had failed to even see her in passing since Matt's proposal. Dubai, of all places! Sam was much happier here, in England, where she belonged. There was no way she would leave. She couldn't.

Even as he thought it, though, he couldn't help wondering what on earth was tying her down here to even give her pause for thought. After all, they were separated, and he had made sure there was no chance of a reconciliation. He should really be surprised that she hadn't jumped at the chance there and then. Except, she hadn't refused him. Yes, she had run off, but that didn't mean she was saying no, just that she didn't want to answer at that particular moment. Typical Sam, always avoiding the question.

He almost smiled to himself as he thought about his own proposal many moons ago now. The tremble in his hands, the expectant, eager, naïve look in his eyes when he had got down on one knee and asked her, quietly, to marry him. He had expected a blunt "no", but instead, she had laughed nervously and ran into the garden. He had to wait eighteen and a half minutes before she finally came back and accepted. It was the happiest moment of his life, but the memory was soured by all the events that had followed.

"Ah, just the man I was looking for! Fancy a pint?" The Scottish lilt of the junior doctor almost made Dylan groan, but he refrained from saying something spiteful and simply shook his head.

"Not tonight," he replied, fairly politely under the circumstances.

"Oh, go on! Me and the lads are hitting the town, and I think you have a better excuse than any of us to get pissed!"

Dylan felt his annoyance growing and decided to end the conversation once and for all. "Unlike you, Dr Lyons, I don't make a habit of drinking away my problems." He was about to add "not any more" to that sentence before realising that that was just another secret he was unwilling to become staffroom gossip. He had been sober long enough to know that he would never, ever allow himself to return to those abysmal days.

Lenny gave a nervous smile before quickly grabbing his jacket from his locker and making a hasty retreat from the staffroom. Silence again, Dylan thought, but strangely that gave him no comfort. Silence only brought thoughts, and in some ways he was almost tempted to stare into the depths of a scotch for any answers to his life. The door opening forced that thought from his mind.

He turned, ready for round 2 with the irritating younger doctor, but gulped when he saw a pale Sam enter, eyes bloodshot from… crying? He had never been very good at observing "women's things", but even he could tell the red, sore skin under her eyes wasn't a medical condition.

"Oh," she said as her eyes met his.

His mouth gaped open like an idiot, scanning his mind for something reasonable to say. Congratulations was too presumptuous, but would ignoring the issue be too awkward?

"I hear it boasts some spectacular views," he said finally, sounding like something out of a travel brochure.

"Sorry?"

"Dubai. Spectacular views," he paraphrased, realising he was digging an even deeper hole for himself but unsure how to get himself out of it now.

Sam's mouth became a thin, pressed line and she turned her head slightly so that their gaze was broken. "So I've been told."

Dylan nodded, understanding perfectly. "How many times, exactly?"

"Well, counting all the doctors, nurses, porters, cleaners, and even some of the patients who happened to be milling around at the time, I think we're looking nearer the fifty mark, don't you?" she said bitterly, feeling like punching the wall.

For one awful moment, he almost thought about pulling her into a hug, like he would have done in the old days, but quickly checked himself, realising that was Matt's job now, no matter how much it pained him to admit it.

"I see."

"Do you, Dylan? Because I have a feeling that you don't see at all; you never have," she replied, slumping onto the couch and resting her head on her knees.

His brows furrowed and he took a hesitant step forward, his hands clasping and unclasping behind his back. "Should I get someone?"

"Why? Don't you think you're up to the job? We're separated Dylan, not divorced – you're still my husband."

At this, Sam looked up to see how nervous Dylan now looked, and almost laughed. "You know what, just forget it. You never wanted to hear my problems before, so why-"

"Not true," he cut in. "I know I wasn't the… easiest man to get along with, but you were hardly innocent yourself."

"Of course not, because you can never bloody take the blame for anything, can you? It always comes back to me, because it seems that everything you did wrong was a consequence of my mistake. My _one _mistake, compared with the countless ones you made."

Dylan turned away, his hands now shaking from anger. He hated that no matter how many years it had been, they were never going to be rid of this.

"I don't think anything I say is going to be right," he said quietly, and left the room without daring to look back at his wife.

xxx

Matt folded over the newspaper he had been carefully analysing for some time, and stood up. He had been waiting in reception long enough, and he wanted answers. Seeing Sam sneaking out of the staffroom not long after her husband didn't dent his confidence in the slightest, but it did increase his curiosity.

"There you are," he called, smiling at seeing her frame go rigid at his voice. At least he still had an effect on her.

"I thought you'd gone," she replied without turning, desperate for today to be over so that she could go home.

"Not without your answer." It sounded cheesy even to him, but perhaps Sam would have become one of those women who liked those one-liners. Unlikely, but he didn't have much to go on considering they hadn't seen each other in such a long time.

Sam shuddered, the words grating on her ears. "I thought I'd made it pretty clear what my answer was, but then you've never been very good with subtlety, have you?"

Matt laughed, ignoring the insult. "Come on, Sammy. Dubai would be a relief and you know it. What's here to keep you in this dump?"

Sam turned at this remark, deciding she was going to show him once and for all exactly how she felt. "I hate the fact that I gave in to you before, and I hate that everything about my marriage is tainted by you. I never, ever want to see you again. Do you understand that?"

For the first time, Sam so a look in Matt's eye that almost resembled hurt, but not enough for her to feel remorse.

"If you change your mind," he said, handing her his card, "then don't hesitate to call me."

Sam took it, even though she knew she'd drop it in the bin the minute he was gone, and then watched him leave, praying to whoever was listening that that would be the last time she saw him again…


	4. Lost Ground

He needed a drink. Badly. It had been years since he'd wanted one this much, and knowing he couldn't just made the ache in his throat ten times worse. Pulling the door shut of his humble houseboat, the chill nip in the wind almost woke him from the ridiculous plan he had concocted in his mind. But even the late winter freeze couldn't quell his need for the solace which could only be found at the bottom of a glass.

Wrapping his wool coat tighter round himself, he braved the darkening streets and made his way towards the pub which he had turned down on so many occasions. His colleagues would be long gone, and only the serious drinkers, like him, would still be propping up the bar, eyes barely able to focus on the drink they were clutching. Even in his mind he knew how pitiful a sight it was, and yet the familiarity of the scenario almost gave him some kind of comfort. It was the safety of treading over past footsteps – every inch of that place was known to him, and right now, he could think of nothing better than to conceal himself in a dusty, stale-smelling corner and forget.

Rounding the corner, he could already hear a group of teens guffawing as one of their friends vomited back up that night's units of alcohol, and he felt his upper-lip curling at the very idea, no matter how hypocritical that made him. He passed them silently, ignoring their jeers and yells, and carried on, his face half-hidden by his upturned collar. It was only as he approached the pub that he saw someone swaying outside, trench coat draped across one limp arm while her shoes were clasped tightly with the other. He sighed, recognising instinctively the long, fair hair and shapely, bare legs of his wife.

"Sam," he called, pushing his hands into his pockets and quickening his pace. She hadn't turned, which didn't surprise him as she seemed completely oblivious to everything, including the lamppost she was fast approaching.

He jogged up to meet her and guided her away just in time before she smacked her head, and the slight flinch as she pulled away from him stung more than anything.

"Dylan?" she asked, her voice slurred and eyes squinting at his face. She rubbed her forehead before giving a quiet groan, and finally her shoulders sagged. "I'm drunk."

"I can see that," he replied, slightly amused by the rather obvious statement. Even when they had been at their closest, he had never really seen her like this – so open and incautious.

"Why… Where are you from?" she asked, before furrowing her brows having realised she had muddled her words but unable to correct herself.

Dylan ignored the question and placed a careful, almost timid hand on her back before directing her across the quiet street and towards the main road. "I'll get you a taxi and take you home," he said, before realising he didn't have a clue where she lived.

"Sam, I need your address."

She nodded and began rummaging in her bag, only to come back empty handed. "My purse…"

"Have you lost it?" he asked, but he could see she had already forgotten what she had been looking for. He sighed, picked up the bag she had now dropped on the ground, and raised a hand at a passing taxi. Saying his address to the driver, he quickly bundled Sam inside before climbing in beside her, unsure what the hell he was going to do once he got her to his place. It had been a long time since they had spent the night together, in any sense of the word.

By the time they reached the canal, Sam was fast asleep on Dylan's shoulder, and he had to pull her out of the taxi and carry her, shoes, coat and all, across to his boat. She mumbled something unintelligible into his ear, perhaps a 'thank you' though he couldn't be sure, and then returned to unconsciousness. Two minutes later, she was tucked up safely in his freshly-made bed, a peaceful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

It took him a moment to realise how long he had been staring at her, but this time the familiarity of the situation before him brought with it no comfort at all. This was one memory he had never been planning on revisiting, for the sole reason that he couldn't bear to rake over all that lost ground. Too much water under the bridge, with too many bitter words said which could never be forgotten, or forgiven.

Shuffling into the matchbox that was the lounge, he slumped into the threadbare armchair and closed his eyes, deciding that only sleep could bring him any kind of relief now.

xxx

Same awoke to the smell of burning and a rather hard mattress. She knew instantly that this was not her flat, and yet there was something about her surroundings which almost seemed… The framed photograph by the bed brought back everything she needed to know, and she almost kicked herself for being so stupid. God knows what might have happened if Dylan hadn't been there.

Kicking off the covers, she hurriedly pulled down the extremely tight fabric of her dress and yanked the dressing-gown from the hook on the door. Perhaps it was ridiculous to feel embarrassed about showing her husband even the tiniest piece of flesh, but she hardly considered Dylan as anything more than an acquaintance now – he certainly didn't see her as his wife, that was for sure.

Stepping cautiously out the door, she was shocked to see him standing with his back to her, swearing quietly under his breath as he tried to cook bacon while making toast and eggs. It was so unusual that she almost wondered whether she was still drunk from the night before, and certainly the smell of grease and fried meat was doing nothing to appease her churning stomach. But the sight of him in a white t-shirt and stripy pyjama bottoms couldn't even have come from her imagination, and she knew she wasn't dreaming.

"Morning," she croaked, causing him to jump out of his skin and drop the buttered knife he'd been holding.

"Damn," he cursed, before picking it up and chucking it into the sink. "Toast?"

"Thanks," she replied, pulling a chair out and shivering as it scraped along the tiled kitchen floor. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble, you know."

"I didn't. This is for me," he said, gesturing to the bacon and eggs he was piling onto his own plate. She smiled, now knowing that she was definitely back to reality, and played with the salt and pepper in the middle of the cramped table.

"Do you have work today?" she asked hesitantly, unsure what to say but not wanting an unbearably awkward silence.

He shook his head and gently placed the plate of toast in front of her. "Not until this afternoon. You?"

"Day off," she immediately replied, having expected the question. Dylan was nothing if not predictable.

"Well, you can stay here until you get yourself sorted. I doubt you'll want to walk back to yours looking like that."

She tried not to take the remark to heart, but she couldn't pretend that it didn't hurt a little. He had never been good with women, or complimenting them in any way, but even now she was still surprised when he came out with such blatant insults.

"Thanks. I'll just shove a paper bag over my head, shall I?"

He shifted uncomfortably, realising he had said something wrong, before sitting down opposite her. "I just meant that it's cold outside and you don't have anything warm to wear."

It was a lie and they both knew it, but she was grateful that he was making an effort to paper over his mistake – it was more than he would have done before.

"If I could borrow a jacket…?"

He looked up from his breakfast and nodded. "Just take anything. I can't pretend that their fashionable, but I'm sure there will be something that isn't too bad."

"Good job I don't like trendy men then, isn't it?" she joked, before realising how flirtatious that sounded. It almost felt as though they had slipped back into old ways, and she knew how close she was to crossing that very clear line they had drawn a long time ago.

He cleared his throat and carried on eating. She did the same. Sooner or later, she knew one of them would have to speak, but that stubborn side to her refused to be the first.

"Your bag buzzed earlier. I assume it's your mobile, but I didn't check."

At this, Sam almost choked on the hard, dry toast she had been forcing herself to gulp down. She didn't have friends or family, apart from Dylan, which meant there was only one other person she could think of.

Grabbing her bag off the floor, she hurriedly pulled the mobile out and unlocked, giving a sigh of relief as she saw the name.

"I suppose he's worried about you. You can get signal outside… to phone him back," Dylan said hesitantly, glancing up at her for a second before returning to his bacon.

She shook her head and put the phone back in her bag. "It was Zoe." She had never felt more relieved, and stupid, for thinking that Matt was calling her. He probably didn't even have her number anymore!

"Right."

She looked up, hearing that familiar, derogatory tone and feeling her blood boil. "It's the truth."

He stood up, his breakfast only half eaten, and scraped the rest in the bin. "I have some paperwork to attend to. Keys are in the bowl by the door. You can give them back to me tomorrow – I have a spare set."

She didn't even have time to reply before he had closed his bedroom door, and she wondered how she had ever been able to live with him at all.

xxx

"I can't stop you from discharging yourself, but if that clot ruptures and you are not in hospital within three minutes, you will die," Dylan said matter-of-factly, trying to judge whether his patient was frightened, or just a moron.

"I'll take my chances, thanks. No way am I staying in here. I know what you people do – you say it's all going to be fine and then you end up in a body bag."

Dylan gritted his teeth and asked himself why he had decided to be a doctor. "This is not, as far as I'm aware, a Lynda La Plante novel, and while your conspiracy theories are entertaining, they do not go any way to convincing me of your fine health. In fact, if I wasn't so busy, I might bring psych down here to assess you."

"Bloody doctors. If _I _wasn't so busy, I'd be suing you!"

With that parting goodbye, Dylan waved off another disgruntled and delusional patient, and hoped that another doctor would deal with him next time. He cared very little for his patients after he had stitched them up and sent them on their way, and he cared even less for those who wouldn't allow him to do his job. As far as he was concerned, they were taking up valuable time and resources which could be of better use to someone who actually wanted, and needed his skills.

"Dylan."

He looked up to see her marching across the reception area with his keys dangling from her finger.

"You could have handed them in tomorrow."

She shrugged and placed them in his waiting hand. "I couldn't. I'm not going to be in tomorrow. Or at all, actually. I'm leaving Holby."

At this he could only stare. "What do you mean?"

She looked away from him before finally returning his gaze, and he almost felt intimidated by such an intense stare. "There's nothing to keep me here, and I'm sure the ED would be better off without _another _stubborn, hot-headed doctor. I'm catching a plane tomorrow morning… to Dubai."


	5. Second Chances

**I have been swamped with studying these past few months so I apologise for the very late update! This should be the second last chapter, so I hope you enjoy it! Please read and review as it means a lot x**

Zoe watched from one of the cubicles as Dylan entered the reception area, checked shirt slightly rumpled and hair sticking up on end. He hasn't slept a wink, she thought, her eyes following him as he paid for a cup of coffee and a chocolate bar at the shop. She knew she'd have to talk to him eventually, but Dylan was so unpredictable when it came to emotions – you never knew when he was just going to explode.

She saw Noel give her a worried glance, and sighed. If the others were starting to see him getting worse, then she knew she had to step in.

Crossing the linoleum floor towards the staffroom, she gingerly opened the door and gave him a small smile. He didn't look pleased to see her.

"Not in the mood, Zoe," he said before she had a chance to open her mouth.

"I know, I just wanted to make sure-"

"I'm fine. Now, I have a very long shift to get through, and I'd rather get it over and done with. In silence, if it's all the same with you?"

She nodded, pretending to zip her mouth in some kind of comedic gesture. She should have known that today was not the best day to do something that light-hearted. He gave her a steely glare before marching out of the room and slamming the full coffee cup in the bin.

"Today's going to be a long day," she muttered to herself, before heading off to find another patient.

xxx

Sam entered the airport and checked the time. Two hours and counting. She checked her mobile, and sighed. Absolutely nothing. Not one call, or message, or even a voicemail. She had said her goodbyes, and now everyone had moved on. Except her.

Yanking her suitcase over to the metal seats by the automatic door, she slumped into one and put her head on her knees. She could already tell she was making a mistake, but she was too stubborn to turn back now. She had gotten herself into this mess, and she was damned sure she wasn't going to call Dylan for help. Even if she desperately wanted him to come rushing in and save her. He had never understood the whole 'knight in shining armour' thing, or in their case, knight in latex gloves. In his head, romance was pointless, even before they had gotten married. The only romantic gesture he had ever shown her was when he proposed, and even that was short-lived. And yet she loved him. It didn't hurt as much to think it now, knowing that she would soon be leaving him behind for good. She loved his coldness, his obliviousness, his general brutal honesty. His flaws made him the man he was, and she loved him, warts and all.

Scrolling through her contacts list, her finger hovered over his name, unsure whether to call him or delete him. If she wanted to make a fresh start, the latter was a sensible decision, but she simply couldn't take such a big step, not when there was still time. Two hours and counting. Maybe this time he would prove her wrong.

xxx

"I don't know what happened, Doc. One minute he was fine, and the next he'd collapsed."

Dylan ignored the frantic boy standing behind him, and examined his rather irritating younger brother. "Nausea? Headache? Vomiting?"

The younger boy shrugged, seemingly uninterested in being treated, or in fact, being diagnosed.

"He said he felt a bit sick. Didn't you, Josh?"

The boy said nothing, now staring at the tray of scalpels and syringes by his bed. Dylan clicked his fingers to gain the boy's attention, and shone a torch in each eye. "Right, well, I'll send away for some blood tests, but it doesn't look too serious. He hasn't had any alcohol this morning, has he?"

"Absolutely not. He's only fifteen," the older brother replied immediately, almost indignant. Dylan hated indignant people. Actually, he hated people in general.

"Right, well, Nurse Conway will deal with you now. Have a nice day," he said sarcastically, marching off in the direction of the door.

Once out in the corridor, he let out a relieved sigh and leant against the wall. He felt claustrophobic, as though everything was closing in him, suffocating him. An hour till she boarded the plane. One hour to stop her. And he knew he wouldn't do it, not because he didn't care, but because he did. If she loved Matt enough to fly over to Dubai with him, then she had evidently moved on. And that meant having to let her go, even if it was tearing him apart.

Rubbing his forehead, he decided that only by immersing himself in his work could he stop his mind from breaking down. Keeping busy – his solution for every problem.

"Doctor Keogh!"

He turned, the panicked voice of Nurse Conway signalling a problem, and jogged back into the ED where the young boy was now flushed and unconscious.

"What's going on?" he demanded, pushing aside the older brother to get a better look.

Scarlet pulled down the railings of the bed to make room for Dylan and moved aside. "He complained he was feeling hot and dizzy, and then he fainted. His blood pressure has dropped dramatically."

Dylan pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and checked the boy's heartbeat. "Have those bloods been sent?"

Scarlet nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. "Should I chase them up?"

"Yes, tell them it's an emergency."

But Dylan could already guess what it was, even without the proof. Nausea, dizziness, a fever, and now low blood pressure - they were all signs of Addison's disease.

xxx

Just under an hour, and still nothing. Sam shook her head and ignored the disappointment threatening to engulf her. She had so hoped that he would come, if only to say goodbye. And now it was all too late – too late to change her mind, too late to tell him how she felt, and far, far too late to save their doomed marriage.

Pulling out her mobile, she scrolled once again through her contacts until she found his name, but this time she didn't hesitate. If he had moved on, then so could she. Sam couldn't allow herself to be the one left behind; it simply wasn't in her nature. She exhaled slowly, and then pressed DELETE before she could have any more doubts.

It was easy as that. She had erased him completely from her life, and now she could start again, without fear or guilt. Maybe Matt wasn't the man she wanted, or indeed the man she needed, but she could find her own way in the world without being dependant on anyone else. She was a modern woman, and she _not _going to clutch hold of a childish fantasy when it had long since evaporated. Dylan had made his decision, and she had made hers.

There could be no turning back now.

xxx

There was no time to doubt himself – he had to act now or the boy would only deteriorate further.

"We'll have to do it ourselves. I'll need an intravenous injection of glucocorticoids and a 500ml intravenous saline solution with dextrose. Now."

Scarlet looked up from the number she had been dialling and raised her eyebrows questioningly. "The tests aren't back yet-"

"I am perfectly aware of that fact, Nurse Conway, but I have diagnosed the patient myself. The blood test is only confirmation. So, if you wouldn't mind…"

She stared at Dylan for a moment, suspicious of his current emotional state. After all, she knew Sam was flying to Dubai today, and Scarlet couldn't help wondering if it was affecting his judgement. But, being the only doctor currently available, she could hardly refuse to make up the treatment.

"Everything all right in here?"

They turned to see Zoe standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest as she looked between their rather guilty faces.

"Doctor Keogh thinks Joshua has Addison's disease," Scarlet blurted out before she could stop herself.

Zoe's head snapped round to face Dylan, eyebrows raised questioningly. "Thinks, or knows?"

"Knows," he replied immediately, giving Scarlet a cold stare before taking the syringe from her. "He is presenting all the symptoms. I'm not wrong."

"Addison's disease is a bit of a jump, isn't it, Dylan? I hope you have more than just your own certainty to go on. What do the blood tests say?"

Scarlet looked at her feet, deciding it was better not to say anymore. But Zoe wasn't stupid, and she soon realised exactly why they both seemed so furtive. "The tests aren't back yet, are they?"

"We don't need them."

"Yes, you do, Dylan! You can't start treating him when you don't know the diagnosis!"

"It's Addison's disease!" he yelled, his voice cracking the silence around them. "If we don't treat him now, and I was right, his condition will deteriorate, his blood pressure will plummet further, and he could die. Let me get on with my job, Zoe."

She took a step towards him so that only he could hear what she had to say. "We are waiting for those tests, and when they come back, I will treat your patient and you will take my car and drive to the airport. We all know that's what is really going on here."

He was about to deny it when she pulled out her car keys and dropped them into his top shirt pocket. "You have twenty minutes to get there. If you go now, you could still stop her."

Dylan wanted to deny it. He wanted to lie and say that Sam meant nothing to him anymore. But he just couldn't pretend any longer – it was too much effort when it seemed everyone knew but him. He loved her, and if he had another chance to tell her, than there was only one thing he could do.

"Thank you," he whispered in her ear, placing the syringe on the tray and hurrying from the room, heading straight for the car park.

xxx

The sky was just beginning to darken as Dylan climbed out of Zoe's car and sprinted towards the airport doors. His heart slammed against his chest, and his breath hitched in his throat as he scanned the flight destinations on the screen above him. Dubai: Boarded. It flashed above him like a warning, and he felt sick at the thought they would soon be taking off. He searched the crowds of people around him, desperately hoping that she had decided not to go. But even with his keen eye, he couldn't see her.

She'd gone. He was too late. He was always too late.

He could already feel his throat closing up as he clenched his fists and walked slowly outside, the cool gust of air shocking him back to reality. He stood for a moment, trying to understand the fact that he had failed, before sensing others looking at him and hurrying towards the car. His hands trembled as he unlocked the door and slide inside, relieved when it clicked shut behind him.

The quiet calmed him, but with the silence came the over-whelming crush of pain on his heart. What had he been thinking? Why hadn't he left earlier, or called her to let her know he was coming? Why had he chosen the most difficult route possible?

For the first time in years, Dylan felt the unfamiliar prick of tears behind his eyes, and though he tried to stop them coming, eventually he gave in and let them come, trickling down his rough cheeks and dripping from his chin. A broken sob escaped his partially open mouth, and he forced himself to sit up and turn on the ignition, knowing that he couldn't sit here wallowing.

He sniffed hard and wiped away the rivulets travelling down his skin, blinking away the remaining tears. He promised himself it would be the only time he would allow himself to cry. He had to accept that he'd lost her for good, and the sooner he did that, the better.

xxx

Zoe checked her watch as she glanced at the entrance to the hospital, wondering where he was. She hoped he hadn't done anything stupid, but Dylan had never been one to do anything extremely drastic. He was cool to the point of freezing most of the time.

Just then, the doors whooshed open to reveal an almost unrecognisable man – dishevelled, visibly shaking, and eyes red from… tears?

"Dylan-"

"I didn't get there in time," he said, his voice unusually quiet as he sat down on one of the seats in the reception area. Zoe sat beside him, speechless, and took his hand in hers.

"Why didn't you just phone? I could have saved you from all this grief…" She didn't get any further as she sensed someone else beside them now, and she knew it was time to leave.

"Dylan?"

He froze, his mind trying to explain the voice he had just heard, and finally turned to face her, unable to say anything more than her name.

"Sam…"


	6. Revelations and Reconciliations

**Have to admit that Sam and Dylan's emotional scenes on Saturday have awoken my desire to write, which is why this chapter is up so quickly compared with previous updates! I think this feels like the last chapter, so please read and review if you wish. x**

Nick's office was silent as Sam stood in one corner and Dylan in the other. Zoe had begged a favour of Mr Jordan after several minutes of Dylan simply staring at his wife, saying absolutely nothing. But it seemed that this quieter space to talk was not having the desired effect.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Sam asked eventually, looking at him intently for any kind of response. She watched his entire body bristle at her question, his jaw clench, and his eyes shift away from the floor.

"What would you like me to say, Dr Nicholls?"

He had returned to formality, she noted with disappointment, and knew that his previous display of pure, raw emotion had disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"You came after me. There must have been a reason-"

"As there must undoubtedly have been a reason for you returning when you told me that you were leaving for Dubai. Or was I mistaken?"

"No…"

"Right. So you lied, then. You lied to me in order to see whether I would run after you. Well, congratulations Sam, you definitely succeeded," he snapped, giving her such a look of venom that she could say nothing in her defence.

She had no idea what she had done wrong, but it seemed that the happy reunion she had imagined when he saw her again was not to reach fruition. Perhaps she should have left after all.

"I came back because I couldn't leave you. It had absolutely nothing to do with seeing your reaction, though it now proves-"

"What does it prove? My undying love for you? Don't flatter yourself, Sam. This isn't some ridiculous romantic novel where the man sweeps the girl off her feet. And if it was, I certainly wouldn't be that man, and you most definitely wouldn't be that woman."

It cut her deep, but she hid it well. She had grown used to his barely concealed insults, and had almost become immune to them. Their entire marriage had been one long, spiteful slanging match, both of them flinging hurtful comments at one another until one of them stormed out. Their scars were buried deep, but the pain still burned beneath the surface.

"This was a bad idea. I should never have come back," she whispered, the words choking her as tears threatened. Her happily ever after was slipping through her fingers, and she had no way of stopping it or even slowing it down.

"No, you shouldn't. I suggest you phone Matt right now and explain you missed the flight. I'll even book you a new one if you want."

"That's uncalled for, Dylan."

"And that's Dr Keogh to you. In any case, I'm not the one who jumped into bed with my spouse's colleague and friend the minute your back was turned! Matt was best man at our wedding, for Christ's sake!"

"And I'm not the one who pushed you away every time you tried to get close to me! All I wanted was to be a good wife, and you wouldn't let me!" She was screaming now, the pain overflowing as she wrestled with her emotions. She had to leave, but her feet were rooted to the spot, her heart aching to finally say what she had wanted to say for years now.

He stepped forwards, his face so close she could feel his breath on her skin. For one second, she almost thought he was going to kiss her, and she felt delirious at the thought of his lips lightly pressed against hers. And then the moment passed, and all that was left was the hurt and disappointment in both their eyes.

"We should never have gotten married," he whispered, more to himself than to Sam. He knew the pain he had caused her, and felt keenly the agony she had inflicted on him, and knowing there was nothing to show for it made it all the worse.

"No," she agreed, "we shouldn't. But when we did, we should have tried harder to make it work. Or at least have admitted it was over after you found out about Matt. We should have got a divorce last year, but I kept hanging on to some form of hope…"

The warmth from their bodies mingled as they leaned into one another, desperate for any kind of comfort, even if it was to be found in each other. Sam placed a tentative hand on Dylan's chest for support, her heart throbbing at the feel of his solid body beneath her touch. He closed his eyes, remembering all those rare moments when they had been lovers rather than fighters, and relished her slender fingers gently resting on him. It was the sweetest pain he had ever encountered, and he would have spent a lifetime enduring it as long as he had her with him.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his cheek now brushing against hers as they moved ever closer.

Her breathing quickened, and she slid her hand down and around his waist as they fitted together perfectly, a move so natural that it happened automatically.

"I'm sorry, too," she replied, chin resting on his broad shoulder. She could smell the familiar fragrance of his shampoo and the intense smell of the hospital soap, and she breathed it in. It smelled like home. "How did we get here? What did we do wrong?"

He could hear the tears in her voice and pulled his arms tighter around her instinctively, knowing that he was still her protector, no matter what.

"We took a wrong turn, that's all," he replied into her ear, rubbing her back with his thumb in soothing, circular motions. He felt her body relax under his gentle touch and smiled. At least she didn't flinch when he came near her anymore.

Sam nodded, sighing deeply as she felt herself letting go of everything and concentrating on Dylan. He was the only thing she wanted and needed right now, and perhaps, if she wished hard enough, he might feel the same.

"I didn't let you in, Sam, not because you were in any way insufficient as my wife, but because… Is it clichéd to say it was me, not you?"

She gave a bittersweet smile and nodded vigorously. "Definitely."

He pulled away slightly, smiling as he felt her hands grip him tighter as she felt him move away.

"Sam… You won't remember, but I came home one night, not long after we were married, ridiculously late, and I didn't say a word to you, even though you had waited up for me. I slammed the door of my study and I left early the next morning, before you had woken up. We weren't the same after that."

"I remember," she interjected, the memory surprisingly vivid as she replayed that night. He had been so terrifyingly quiet when he came home, and, now that she thought about it, for some time after that.

"I had been the doctor in charge of a young girl that day – Lucy Dawson, six years old. She had come in after fainting at her primary school. Her father brought her in, and when I examined her, I said that it was most likely just a one-off. There were no signs of any illness, and I discharged her. An hour later, she came back into the ED, with a fever and fatally low blood pressure. I was out of my depth, I had no idea what was wrong with her, and by the time someone had properly diagnosed her, there was no time to save her. She died that day of Addison's disease – April 19th, at 13:23. It was my fault."

In that second, everything made sense. Dylan's sudden change from loving husband to a hostile stranger, his strange obsession with rare diseases, his coldness, his drinking – they were all caused by unbelievable guilt for the girl he had failed to save.

"You couldn't have known. Addison's disease is almost unheard of, and ridiculously hard to spot. It could have been any number of things, Dylan. You can't blame yourself."

He shook his head vehemently. "Maybe that wasn't entirely my fault, but everything that came afterwards was. I treated you like you didn't exist. No wonder you went to Matt – I'm surprised you came back at all…"

"I came back because I realised what a terrible mistake I had made. You are my husband, Dylan, and not even divorce papers will change that fact," she told him, feeling stronger than she had done in a long time.

Cupping her face in his hands, he stared deep into her eyes, desperately wanting to believe her. "You should go to Dubai."

"Not until you tell me why you went to the airport. I need to know, Dylan. I have a right to know, as your wife. Why did you come after me?"

He gave her a pleading look, begging her not to make him say it, but he knew he would. He had to tell her, even if it meant still having to say goodbye to her anyway. He would never forgive himself if he didn't tell her the truth.

"Because I couldn't let you go."

Sam gave him a smile which gave him such a glimmer of hope that he couldn't help but smile back. And then she was back in his arms, her hand on the back of his neck as she brought his face down to hers. They paused, waiting for the other to pull away, and in that one delicious moment of anticipation, they both realised how much they meant to each other.

"I love you, Dr Keogh," Sam whispered, and just like that, nothing mattered but to kiss him.

He closed the gap with one urgent move, his lips finding hers with such ease that it was as though all those horrific, agonising years had never happened, and they were back to being the happy newlyweds of long ago. Her fingers gripped his sandy coloured hair, the kiss increasing as their trembling lips hungered for a deeper, more loving bond. And then, without warning, Dylan gave a low chuckle and slowed the kiss, his hand brushing the side of her face.

"I love you too, Dr Keogh," he said, kissing her forehead, then her nose, and finally returning to her lips, both of them knowing that nothing, not even each other, would split them apart again.


	7. Epilogue: New Beginnings

**Because many of you seemed to think an epilogue would be a good idea, and because I absolutely love writing these two, I have decided to do one final chapter as a sort of farewell/tribute thing :) Enjoy and please review! X**

"Samantha, allow me to do my job!"

"I would if you did it properly!"

"I am perfectly capable of doing this on my own. Why are you even here?"

"Because I knew that I could do it better than you!"

Noel smiled to himself, unperturbed by the raised voices inside one of the cubicles. The entire team had long since realised that interfering in the Keoghs marriage was not to be advised – they usually sorted it out in the end.

"Right, that is it. Get out. Get out, Sam. Now!"

The receptionist glanced sideways to see a flushed and irate Sam marching off towards his desk, where she grabbed a patient's file and pretended to flick through it. Stifling a laugh, Noel continued about his business, fully aware that the show hadn't even started yet. If nothing else, Sam and Dylan certainly entertained those milling around the ED so early in the morning.

Dr Keogh returned to his patient, growling something unintelligible under his breath as he began stitching up the gaping wound on a rather nervous looking patient. Almost seven months since he and Sam had finally reconciled, and they were already bickering like crazy. Nothing out of the ordinary then, he thought as he looped the thread into a knot and snipped the end with his scissors.

"Very neat," he commented as though trying to convince himself that he was just as good as his skilled wife.

"That's a matter of opinion."

He sighed and turned his head to see her leaning over his shoulder, looking rather unimpressed at his handiwork.

"There is nothing wrong with it," he replied with just a hint of annoyance in his tone. How did she manage to get under his skin so easily?

Sam moved him aside to take a closer look and then shrugged. "It's not bad."

Dylan watched her smile sweetly at the patient and then at him before sidling back out of the cubicle, fully aware that she had just insulted him, no matter how subtle it had been. He placed the needle carefully back in the tray, exited the cubicle and yanked the curtain round. He didn't want anyone witnessing yet another domestic between him and his wife.

She was back at the reception desk, realigning the files in an orderly fashion and whistling quietly to herself. His eyes travelled along her slender neck, the gentle slope of her back and the curves of her waist and hips. Even when they were rowing, he was still completely under her spell. She was beautiful.

Shaking the thought from his mind, he marched over to stand beside her, their arms just touching as he tried to sort out the mess she was making of the files.

"I can do this, Dylan. Go find another patient."

"Why don't you let me do this, and _you _go find another patient," he replied rather childishly, attempting to take another file but had his hand slapped instead.

"Because I was here first," Sam countered, smiling at him teasingly.

Dylan simply sighed and took a step back to look at her properly. "How long till I get rid of you, then?"

She laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. "Another three weeks, darling. I know you're going to miss me terribly."

"What gave you that idea?" he asked, but a smile was already tugging at his lips as she shuffled forwards, stretching up on her tiptoes to look him in the eye.

"You'll have no one to correct your shoddy needlework, for a start," she said quietly, kissing him quickly before he had a chance to deny the accusation. He rested a hand on her cheek, deepening the kiss for a second before breaking away, knowing this was neither the time nor the place to make up properly.

"I don't think you want to get on the wrong side of me, Dr Keogh, considering I'm the one who'll be bringing home a wage while you put your feet up," he teased, chuckling as she glared at him.

"I would happily trade places with you if I could. I'm going to be so bored for two whole months!"

He shook his head. "No more stress. Listen to your very own, personal doctor," he replied, his hand now gently rubbing the side of her protruding stomach.

Sam sighed and placed her hand on top of his, before giggling when they both felt a kick. "I think he agrees."

"Of course he does. He knows his father is always right," Dylan said matter-of-factly, avoiding another punch with a quick sideways step.

"I want two strawberry cheesecakes for that remark!" she called after him as he tried to sneak off down to the end cubicles.

He turned, gave her a quick wink and then blew her a kiss, watching as she caught it with a small smile. He glanced at her one last time, unable to understand why this strong, beautiful woman had decided to stay with him, before disappearing inside the cubicle.

Noel watched as the young, female doctor rubbed her stomach gently and then turned to continue with her work. He thought about commenting on how well she looked, or ask about the baby, but in the end he chose a far simpler comment instead.

"You look happy, Sam."

She lifted her head, a little disorientated after being submerged in her own little world, and then gave him a grateful smile which he gladly returned.

"I am, Noel. I really am."

**I am now 99% sure this is the end, though you've twisted my arm once so I'm sure you could do it again ;) However, I have at least 3 other fics involving these two which I would love to get started on, so there will be plenty more Sam/Dylan popping up soon! Thanks for all your lovely reviews, alerts, favourites etc. and I hope you enjoyed this ****final**** instalment x**


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